


Screwing the Time Line and Gaining a Dozen Lilacs (Or Perhaps Three)

by zarabithia



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Multi, Time Travel, community: kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-18
Updated: 2010-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Kate get thrown back in time and encounter Bucky during World War II.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screwing the Time Line and Gaining a Dozen Lilacs (Or Perhaps Three)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "double penetration" prompt for kink bingo.

Hank Pym most assuredly did not approve of Clint and Kate's shenanigans. "You really should stay here until we are ready to go back to our time line, but -"

"Boring," Clint interrupted.

" _Boring_ ," Hank repeated slowly. "Do you have any idea how much damage the two of you could do?"

"We'll be careful," Kate said dismissively.

"Yeah, we're _Avengers_. Careful is our middle name," Clint bragged. He stood with a ridiculously confident swagger, which reminded every one of Kate's hormones why she had wanted him so much to begin with.

Considering that they had been stuck in 1944 for a full week in a small room with Hank Pym in scientist mode, Kate's hormones might have been just a tad bit frustrated.

Hank did not seem to appreciate Clint's swagger, because he rolled his eyes and replied, "Yes, I'm an Avenger, too. Which is how I know that 'careful' has never been any of our middle names, with the possible exception of Steve Rogers."

"Oh, god, not the Ultron angst again," Clint muttered.

Hank's eyes narrowed. "Just try not to fuck up the time line," he said tiredly. "And if you meet Captain America, don't -"

"Really, Hank," Clint interrupted again, as he opened the door, "What are the chances of that happening?"

Kate didn't hear his reply, because she and Clint were already out the door.

~~

As it turned out, the chances were apparently quite good.

"It doesn't count," Clint told her, as they sat in a little booth in a bar not two blocks away from the temporary Avengers headquarters. "That's not the _real_ one."

"It's still hilarious," Kate answered. "Wait until we tell poor, poor Hank."

Clint smirked into his drink. "Why do you want to make Hank cry, Kate? And I feel like maybe I should be protesting you drinking alcohol."

"It's legal in the country we're in," Kate said with a roll of her eyes. "And I've been attending boring rich girl parties since I was two. If you think this is my first alcoholic drink, you are sorely mistaken."

"Oh, my mistake, _princess_." Clint had at least half a dozen different smirks, depending on the particular brand of smugness he was trying to project, and as the word "princess" left his lips, it shifted into the same smirk he used whenever Kate complained about her sister's ridiculously extravagant spending practices.

Kate stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. "And considering that you've been in my pants since the week after I turned eighteen, _I feel_ like maybe you shouldn't be making any judgments about my age appropriate activities."

"Okay, that just makes me sound like a pervert," Clint protested. "And that's not fair. It's not like I was sitting around waiting for you to turn eighteen for the opportunity to jump you."

"If I thought you were, I wouldn't be with you," Kate said honestly. "But, Clint, honey, you can't claim exclusion to the pervert club. Because if you could, you wouldn't have been sitting here next to me in this booth, watching Bucky's ass in that ridiculously tight-fitting uniform as much as I have been."

Clint tried to protest and his indignation was written all over his face, but Kate pressed her lips to his, and that rendered him hopeless, as always.

"It's not like I'm angry about it," Kate answered. "In fact, I think that thing we've been talking about - adding another person? There's no time like the present. Or the past. Or whatever."

"You sure?" Clint asked, running his hand either protectively or possessively - or both, likely - down her arm.

Kate rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. And for the record, according to Eli's ongoing love fest of Bucky Barnes, the Bucky we're perving on is nineteen. So, everyone's legal and consenting." She kissed him again, and repeated the slow, possessive stroking of his arm.

Archer arms were the best and anyone who claimed otherwise didn't know what they were talking about.

Clint stole one more not-at-all-subtle glance at Bucky. "Well, I wouldn't want anyone to be able to say I didn't make my girl happy..."

"That's the spirit." Kate kissed him one more time and raised her glass in a mock toast. "Here's to fucking up the time line."

~~

Kate expected, really, to have to work harder at getting Bucky to agree than she'd had to with Clint. After all, it _was_ 1944 and her history books, as far as she could tell, had never really mentioned random threesomes as being commonplace.

But the hardest time he gave either of them was, "It's about time you two actually _did_ something. I've been waiting on you to decide whether or not you were going to make a move for the past twenty minutes."

"Cocky bastard," Clint muttered, but his smirk had shifted into the _"god, I want to fuck you so much"_ territory, so Kate figured that was a good sign.

Kate really liked that particular smirk of Clint's, no matter how often she'd seen it by now.

As for Bucky, each grin and happy expression was pretty much a foreign concept to the one Kate knew back home. The only people capable of getting old Bucky to look happy seemed to be Falcon and Steve Rogers.

But with this one, the smiles were fast and loose. Kate wished she knew what changed that, so she could warn him. Because she would, time line be damned.

But she didn't know, and she pushed that particular guilt she couldn't do anything about down, as she watched Bucky laugh at Clint. "Who taught you how to lock a door?"

"It's not my fault the bathroom here sucks," Clint grumbled. "Anyway, it'll keep anyone out long enough for us to get our pants back on."

"Always important," Bucky mocked. "But before the pants come off, we should talk about positions..."

Clint wanted to be in the middle. Kate could see that clearly enough, and it made sense, given some of their past conversations about how sharing would go. Normally, Kate would be all for that, because watching a hot guy fuck her boyfriend was very, very appealing. But the likelihood that they were ever going to get old Bucky into their bed again was pretty dim, and Kate was just not altruistic enough to let the opportunity fly by.

"That's a good point, soldier boy," Kate agreed. "But you know what's a good point, Clint? Last week was our six month anniversary, and guess who forgot all about it?"

"... You didn't mention anything about it! Your forgot too!"

"Nope. I remembered. I just didn't mention it at the time, but don't think I didn't notice the lack of lilacs on my table," Kate answered. "So, in conclusion, I get to be in the middle."

Clint grumbled, but consented, and Bucky laughed, and Kate's hormones grew increasingly impatient to be between those two sounds.

~~

Getting between them would have been easier if Kate would just start carrying lube with her in her purse. In fact, the first thing Kate was going to do when they returned home to their time period was just toss a tube in her purse. (She was glad that she'd gone with the implant for birth control; she'd hate to have left _that_ behind in her time line was well.)

Because honestly, this might have been their first threesome, but this was far from the first time they'd been having a quickie when lube when would have came in handy.

But Clint was hardly a virgin, he was skilled enough to not need a long time to stretch her, and in his hands, spit worked almost as well as lube.

Well, that was a lie. Spit was hardly ideal, but it worked, and really, when you're having your first threesome in a barroom bathroom, you couldn't exactly throw stones on the idealistic front.

But the little bathroom worked, too. Bucky positioned himself against the wall ("You can't tell how dirty it might be, and I guarantee I've been dirtier places" was a horrifying mix of knee-melting chivalry and stomach-churning grossness) and Kate happily hitched her skirt up.

She was struck by the sudden fact that it was a very good thing she didn't wax in certain places. Explaining that to a 1944 boy might be kind of awkward.

Resting her hands on his shoulders for support, she eased herself on top of him, and Kate would never, ever lie about the fact that she felt a triumphant little thrill at the soft moan that escaped his lips.

He looked happy.

It was enough of an ego boost that Kate momentarily forgot the dirtiness quotient, as she tugged open his uniform and dropped a line of kisses along the top of his chest. It tasted just as Clint's did, every time they had sex after a battle, with an extra dose of something that tasted particularly Bucky-like.

It was a good taste, and Kate sampled it again, as she thrust her hips slightly. Much to her delight, Bucky responded with another of his low groans.

"Such pretty sounds my girl's causing you to make," Clint murmured. He removed his fingers from Kate's ass, and she bit back an irritated and impatient sigh that would have told him how much she wanted those fingers to be replaced immediately.

"Didn't know they made women like this," Bucky murmured.

"Somehow, I think I should be offended," Clint chuckled.

"Oh, well, they don't make men much like you either?" Bucky offered. It was possibly the least sincere comment Kate had ever heard, and she laughed against the sweaty chest and took the opportunity to taste it yet again.

"Liar," Clint scoffed. One of his hands slipped under Kate's leg, giving her more support as he entered her.

Kate heard the distinct sound of Clint's other hand smacking against the wall, as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the fullness of the two men inside her.

Then she opened her eyes, flashed a grin at Bucky and began to _move_.

~~

Kate treasured each and every one of the groans she earned from her boys, and the reasons behind her own moans, but they could hardly stay locked in the bathroom forever.

So she kissed Bucky on the cheek, and wiped herself clean as she waited for Clint to wash his hands. Then the two of them left the bar and headed back to meet up with Hank.

"So, I am kind of curious about why no one interrupted us while we were in there," Kate mused on the walk back.

"Well," Clint answered, with an ease that Kate could only chalk up to the kind of complete senselessness that he tended to get when he was operating in post-orgasm mode, "I think they kind of thought you were a hooker."

"... A _hooker_?"

"Mmmhmm. Barnes used to tell stories about hookers during the -"

"Don't. Finish. That. Sentence."

"You sound mad."

Kate glared at Clint until he had the good sense to look ashamed. "That's _two_ dozen lilacs you owe me, when we get home."

"I'll get them. I promise."

~~

It took them another two days to make it home. By the time they did, there was a dozen lilacs waiting for her at her apartment, but they weren't from Clint.

Apparently, the chances of getting a second round with Bucky weren't as slim as Kate thought.

If Clint was very lucky - and ever managed to remember the flowers he owed her - he might get to take a turn being in the middle.

Eventually.


End file.
